


you don't have to put on that red light

by leapylion3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3/pseuds/leapylion3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon hires a prostitute on the night of his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you don't have to put on that red light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



The shadows engulf him completely, and no one would see him, if not for the light at the end of his cigarette. The avenue is dark, even with several street-lamps turned on. His eyes scan the crowd with precision, with practice, and he huffs out a small sigh of disappointment.  He cannot spot any potential customers with his well-trained eye; in other words, he’d just wasted half an hour bumming around. He shrugs deeper into his coat, drops his cig to the ground, and begins his trek to the nearest club.

As he approaches the establishment, he can feel the heat radiating from _The Kneeling Man_ ; the door continues to open and close, letting out giddy, drunk patrons. He pops open a few buttons of his jacket as he finds a spot in front of the building. (He needs to attract customers, of course. There is a reason why he wears clothes tight enough to almost be considered indecent.) He lights another cigarette, and leans back against the brick wall.

He waits.

A couple of girls giggle and flirt with him, and they almost rent him for the night, but they’re gone in a flash as a taxi pulls up to the curb. Frowning, he drops his cigarette to the ground and puts it out. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed, though he does not show it. He cannot look unhappy; otherwise, there will be even less of a chance of him making money tonight. (And he desperately needs the cash.)

“Um, hi.”

Satin jumps at the sudden voice, and the lighter he’d been toying with drops to the ground. The stranger scoops it up for him, and hands it back. “Thanks,” Satin says, smoothly enough to cover his true shock and nervousness. The man studies Satin with curious grey eyes, and when he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, Satin’s gaze is drawn to his full mouth. “How can I help you?”

With trembling fingers, the man pulls out a thick wad of cash and offers it to Satin. “Ah- I have a, uh, hotel room. If that works for you.” He smells of alcohol, though not enough to be deemed intoxicated. No, his unsteadiness is due to his agitation.

Satin does not take the money just yet; the man watches in confusion as a smirk forms on the prostitute’s lips. “I like to know my customers before we get to the dirty stuff.” He winks, and relishes in the way the man blushes.

“I-I’m Jon,” he says, his voice cracking. He sticks out his hand, and Satin firmly shakes it. “My friend Theon…” Jon shakes his head, dismissing his sentence. “This is kind of a birthday present from my friend.”

“How thoughtful of him.” His tone is dry, but Jon does not seem to notice. It’s not the first time that Satin has been purchased for someone’s birthday (and he supposes that he could have ended up with a much less attractive customer for the night). “I’m Satin.”    

“Is that, like, your real..?”

“My real name or my hooker name?” Satin snorts. “I was born with it, actually. I get that question a lot, though, so don’t sweat it.” He tucks the money back into Jon’s pocket, and quickly squeezes Jon’s thigh. “Now…where is that hotel of yours?”

* * *

 

The heavy door to Jon’s room closes behind them with a _bang_. Satin is quick to shed his jacket, and he feels Jon’s eyes on him as he hangs the garment up in the closet. The silk shirt he wears is all but transparent, and his red jeans show off his ass. He locks gazes with Jon, and grins widely as his customer blushes fiercely.

“So, Jon,” Satin begins, slowly inching towards the man, “what exactly did you have in mind for tonight?” He unzips Jon’s coat, and tosses it onto the settee at the foot of the bed. Subtly, he appreciatively examines Jon’s toned arms shown off, and he can make out hard muscles from underneath the v-neck.

“I-I’ve never, I mean…” Jon’s fists clench at his sides. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Yes! No, I mean, no! I’ve just…never done _this_ before.” He lowers his voice, as if he is letting Satin in on a huge secret. “I’ve never been with a _man_ before, much less paid for the company of one.”

A slow, wicked grin forms on Satin’s face as he digests the words. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Jon is not terribly tall, but Satin is short for a male of his age; he has to reach up on his tiptoes to kiss him, but it is an excuse for Jon have his hands on his waist to keep him steady. Jon tastes like whiskey and beer and mint gum, things that had been absolutely repulsive on other customers yet are somehow comforting and charming on Jon. Satin parts Jon’s lips with his tongue, and a shiver runs down his spine as Jon lets out a tiny moan.

“Now who taught you how to do that?” Satin asks, nipping Jon’s jaw line. Surely he can’t be _that_ inexperienced, when he kisses like he was born to do it.

“M-my ex-girlfriend,” Jon stammers. “Can we not talk about her, please?” He breathes in sharply as Satin bites at his neck, colouring his skin red.

“Good idea,” Satin hums. Satin grinds against him, and even through their jeans, he can feel Jon’s erection. He pushes up Jon’s shirt, and Jon takes the hint; he pulls the material over his head in one swift movement, and drops it onto the settee. Satin runs his fingers over Jon’s chest and stomach, watching as the muscles jump and flutter under his skin. “I think I know something much better to do with our mouths than talking.”

Satin is on his knees a moment later, nosing at the dark curls under Jon’s navel, leading into the waistband of his trousers. He unzips them, and not even a moment later, the pants and boxers underneath are pooled at Jon’s ankles. With precision, Satin licks a line up the underside of Jon’s cock, going slow enough until Jon is whimpering and tugging at Satin’s hair. Satin holds back a chuckle as he wraps his lips around Jon’s cock, teasing the slit with his tongue.

“S-Satin, I- _oh_ , oh, _yes_.” Satin takes a peek up to watch Jon; his eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy, and his black hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat. His chest rises and falls quickly, while quiet groans and gasps escape between breaths.

Satin releases Jon’s cock with a slight _pop_ , then gently guides Jon to the settee at the foot of the bed. Jon sits down without question, barely conscious of anything other than Satin’s mouth around his cock as he resumes his ministrations. His hips jerk erratically, trying to get as much of his touch as possible. Satin takes him as far back as he can, nails digging into Jon’s thighs. Satin himself has grown achingly hard, and with one hand, he rubs at the front of his jeans, hoping for some relief.

Jon tries to push him away as he’s about to climax, but Satin swallows every last drop, like a good whore would. Jon is slightly shocked, but recovers soon enough, and pulls Satin up to kiss him once more. Jon does not shy away, even though he can taste himself as clear as day; if anything, he seems to kiss Satin harder. He nips at Satin’s mouth, sucking on his tongue, clashing his teeth with his, pulling him as close as he can get. There is something under all of this, a sort of animal _need_ in their blood, an urge for affection and comfort and _heat_. Satin kisses like a starved man, his nights previously occupied by any stranger with a pocketful of cash; he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to feel pleasure, to writhe and tremble with desire not to please a client, but because he cannot control himself.

His head swims as Jon’s hands unbutton his shirt and drop it to the floor. Satin rubs himself on Jon’s thigh, quietly moaning; his trousers have become impossibly tight, and the friction sends bolts of pleasure up his spine. The world has been reduced to merely the two of them, two lovers intertwined and melting into one another. Nails rake into alabaster skin, puncturing and _claiming_. _Mine, **his** , **ours**_.       

“I-I want to touch you,” Jon blurts out, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darkened with lust as he pulls away to look at Satin. Before Satin can even blink, Jon has him on his hands and knees on the bed. He all but tears off Satin’s jeans, and Satin is immensely happy that he had forgone underwear today. Jon is behind him- Satin can feel the dip of the bed whenever Jon moves himself around-, and he wants so desperately to turn around; he hates not knowing what is going on.

Satin, caught off-guard, lets out an embarrassing squeak as Jon’s tongue comes in contact with his hole, experimentally licking him. He’s had this done to him once or twice before, but has performed the act more times than he can count. (Because, after all, whores are meant to work and give pleasure; their own satisfaction does not matter.)

“J-Jon, you don’t- _oh yes_ \- don’t have to do this-” He cuts himself off with a barely contained scream, muffled by the back of his hand in an attempt to save _some_ of his dignity.

“I want to,” Jon replies, his breath hot across Satin’s puckered skin. Satin shudders, his jaw falling open, and Jon continues to lap at him, losing his timidity with each stroke. Satin’s knuckles have become a bloody mess, his teeth digging into his flesh; he cannot feel that pain, for all he can think about is Jon’s mouth, _his perfect fucking mouth_ , eating him out without hesitation.

Satin comes with a shout, without Jon having even touched his cock. He makes a mess on the sheets, but that is nothing but a fleeting thought as he collapses onto the bed, his limbs shaking under his weight. With gentle hands, Jon turns him over so he’s on his back, looking up at his customer.

“Was that, um…” Jon clears his throat, his expression bashful. “Was that…good?”

“Fucking hell, _yes_.” Satin takes note that Jon is hard once more, and a small smirk forms. “There are condoms in the back pocket of my trousers, and a bottle of lube in my coat.” Jon scrambles to retrieve the jeans from the floor even before Satin’s sentence is done. The pure eagerness on his face makes a laugh bubble in Satin’s chest, but Jon kisses the smile right off of his face.

As Jon slides the condom onto his cock, Satin can feel his own twitch with anticipation. With a generous layer of lube, the tip nudges at Satin’s entrance, and he spreads his legs wider to accommodate Jon. There is a look of utmost concentration on Jon’s face, his brow furrowed and his full bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Satin busies himself by peppering Jon’s neck and shoulders with kisses, breathing in the distinct scent of salt, sweat and sex.

Satin gasps as Jon’s cock begins to enter him; he arches his back, a moan tumbling from his lips. “Is this okay?” Jon asks frantically, stilling the movement of his hips.

“Oh, _gods_ , don’t you dare stop.” They share a wry grin, and Jon resumes his shallow thrusts, trying to get deeper inside him. Satin wraps his legs around Jon’s waist, pulling him closer, forcing Jon to meet his gaze. They do not kiss again, but the glint in Jon’s eye makes Satin hotter than the touch of lips ever could.

Satin cries out as Jon’s fingers wrap around his cock, pumping him until he stiffens to the point where it’s almost painful. Satin is almost inclined not to believe Jon’s story of never being with a man before. He knows exactly where to touch, knows what Satin likes even more than he himself does. 

Jon growls at the back of his throat as he orgasms, sinking his teeth into Satin’s jaw line. He runs his thumb over the head of Satin’s cock, swiping at the pre-come there; Satin shivers under him, whimpering as he climaxes. The room is silent except for the panting of the two men, perfectly in sync with each other.

Jon finally rolls off of Satin, and curls into himself, his back to Satin. Satin focuses on the ceiling, counting each dot on the tiles up there until his vision is fuzzy. He does not know if Jon wants him to spend the night or not- he will have to pay extra for that, though Satin is considering giving him a discount-, but he still makes no move to get up.

He hears tiny sobs, and it takes him longer than it should to realize that Jon must be _crying_. Curious and concerned, he leans up on his elbow to take a peek at his customer, his heart leaping into his throat. “Jon?” he whispers, crawling closer to him. “Is everything all right?” He brushes Jon’s damp hair away from his forehead, and he can see tear tracks running down Jon’s cheeks.

Jon sniffles, and finally looks up at Satin. “I-I’m just as bad as the rest of them, aren’t I? Fuck, I shouldn’t have let Theon give me the money-”

“What are you talking about?” Satin’s tone is soft, but his words still have impact.

“I-I kept telling myself, when I was going into this, th-that I would be different than the others, but…” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I just _used_ you, and I don’t _want_ that. You don’t deserve that, no one does!” His voice is cracking, and does not sound like the Jon from before at all.

“Jon, you’re _not_ using me. It’s my job, but-”

“Satin, please, please, don’t do this to yourself!” Jon sniffs again, his lower lip trembling. “You didn’t even like it, prob’ly.”

“That’s ridiculous, Jon, I-” He pauses. “How old are you?”

“E-eighteen.”

Satin remembers that it’s his birthday today. ( _Oh gods oh gods oh gods I just slept with someone barely legal **for money** fuck fuck fuck-_) “Look, Jon, I _did_ enjoy it. I really, _really_ did.” He bites the inside of his cheek, weighing his words. “This one was on the house, if that’ll make you feel better.” He slants his lips over Jon’s, lightly, nothing but a soft brush. “A birthday present, of sorts.”

“I-I, no, I can’t do that.” Jon cups Satin’s neck, feeling his pulse. “You need the money, I know you do.” He swallows thickly, and his next words are so quiet that Satin has to strain his ears to hear him: “Can I at least, um, buy you dinner, next time? Take you out on a date, you know, good and proper?”

Satin smiles. This boy is endearing, and innocent, so damn innocent that Satin can’t help but feel responsible for some sort of corruption caused. But he kisses Jon again, still smiling. “Take me somewhere nice. I’m not that easy, Jon.” (He considers the discount again, but decides to ignore Jon’s protests and let the fees slide this time.)         


End file.
